


Holiday

by Skud



Category: Hornblower
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-31
Updated: 2004-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skud/pseuds/Skud





	Holiday

It felt like a holiday. Archie squinted against the bright Caribbean sunshine, put his hands in his pockets, and sauntered over to the weather side of the quarterdeck. Would Buckland mind? No, not a flicker of disapproval from the acting captain; he was standing at the fife-rail with his glass under his arm, staring at the full sails in the brisk topsail breeze. Archie lounged against the mizzenshrouds, watching to windward as round after round from the lower gundeck smashed a few floating beef barrels to splinters.

Below, Lieutenants Bush and Hornblower were also enjoying the holiday atmosphere. There hadn't been a good cannon drill for months under Captain Sawyer's command, and now they were making the most of their opportunity, before their gunnery was put to the test at Santo Domingo.

"Reload!"

The gun-crews loaded with cartridge and shot, ramming them home with gleeful vigour; their officers' enthusiasm was infectious, and each crew wanted to out-do the other in speed and accuracy. They primed the charges and ran out the guns, then waited expectantly for the order.

"Fire!"

A resounding crash, and the guns shot back from the ports. Horatio looked at his watch. "Better, Mr Bush." William grinned, and ran a grimy shirt-sleeve over his grimier forehead. "But not good enough," Horatio continued, flushed with the heat but maintaining his usual self-discipline. "Again?"

_How does he do it?_ William wondered. _Two hours of gunnery drill and he hasn't even removed his waistcoat._ He gave a mental shrug, and shouted the order to his crew.

"Reload!"

Amidst the running powder-monkeys and the rattle and screech of the gun-carriages, Horatio glanced over at his opponent and his crew. They'd been far less adept two hours ago, but were gaining fast now. Bush had stripped down to his shirt and heaved with his men, even taken a turn as sponger to demonstrate a faster technique; now he stood behind them with his shirt untucked and begrimed and his neckcloth all ahoo. Yet his division had improved from almost three minutes to well under two. _A keen officer could learn a great deal from Lieutenant Bush,_ Horatio thought.

The guns ran out with a crash, Horatio's just ahead of William's. Their eyes met for an instant through the lingering smoke, an exhilarated sparkle in one dark pair and determination in the grey ones that looked back. Their shouts came almost simultaneously: "Fire!"

Above on the quarterdeck, Archie smiled to himself. He'd seen Horatio at gunnery drill a hundred times before, and could just imagine the sight below decks. There would be smoke and deafening noise, and the stench of sweat and powder, and Horatio would be glowing with the thrill of it. Horatio had always loved gunnery. Gunnery and navigation. But while navigation was a quiet, constrained pursuit, Horatio behind a gun was a different creature entirely. _Fiyah!_ murmured Archie to himself, lovingly mimicking his friend's voice. And what of Lieutenant Bush? Archie had caught the challenging look he and Horatio had exchanged before they went below. What would William look like in the heat of the gundeck? Would his dark hair curl damply on his forehead like Horatio's? Would his grey eyes light up with excitement as each round was fired? Did his face contort with effort as he shouted the orders?

From below he heard the cries of "house your guns," and the sounds of them being secured. His curiousity was answered a moment later as the two lieutenants raced up the companionway. Bush was entirely dishevelled, shirt and neckcloth flapping, hair mussed, and smudges of smoke all over. It was even better than Archie had hoped; he had not realised that the serious, reserved second lieutenant could ever let loose to such a degree. _It's a holiday, for certain,_ he thought, _and it looks like William means to celebrate it too._ Archie himself had never known a better opportunity for celebration, nor more promising companions to share it with: not one but two sweating officers with dark hair plastered to their necks and the smell of powder-smoke lingering on their skin. He subdued an urge to squirm in anticipation.

But there was something going on. His attention had been distracted by Bush's approach, and he'd been only vaguely aware of Buckland enquiring after Horatio's health. _Oh no, don't let him be unwell,_ he prayed. _Such a wasted opportunity..._

"What's going on?" asked Bush.

"Come and see," replied Buckland with an uncharacteristic grin.

They crossed the quarterdeck, smiles growing on their faces as they heard the laughter and splashing from below. William, reaching the fife-rail first, licked his lips, and Archie's last doubts were extinguished. _Oh yes, he'll help us celebrate, without a doubt._

But oh, what a sight on deck. Such expanses of bare skin, so well known and yet so rarely seen in daylight. And so very wet. Archie controlled his own tongue with difficulty, but could not resist a smirk. _And to think I was so recently enthusing about the taste of lingering powder-smoke,_ he thought. _I suppose I can forego that pleasure, if this is the alternative._ He shifted his stance, adjusting for the growing tightness of his breeches, and settled a fraction of an inch closer to William at the rail.


End file.
